When It Rains
by miss-stupid-sunshine
Summary: After a mission goes wrong and Natasha's memory is lost, can SHIELD repair itself? As with Natasha and Clint's relationship? Everything is torn and ruined, but matters only get worse when Natasha starts recovering. - I do not own any characters, they are sadly owned by Marvel Universe.
1. Extraction

The room was dark when Clint was dragged in, and he could just make out the muddle shape of someone is the corner. Who ever it was, they were chained with their hands against the wall, their head hanging limp in between. They looked unconscious He couldn't make out much more, because he was still struggling against the guards.

They jabbed a something into his neck, and his attempts to carry on fighting drowned in the drug that was now taking over his body. He could tell he would pass out soon enough, but he was still awake to see the guards walk over to the person in the corner.

"Ah, the Russian bitch." The guard mumbled.

Natasha! Clint's mind was screaming, but the drug blocked it out. He tried to scream, to move, anything to let Natasha know he was here, that he was with her.

"How about a kiss?" The guard hovered over her, and Clint could see, in fractured images, Natasha lift her head up. Her bright hair was just barely visible, and even though it was impossible, Clint could swear he saw her emerald eyes in the dark.

"I'd rather stick needles in my eyes." She said, her voice husky and rough, her accent just there underneath the surface. Whenever she was in distress her accent slid through, ever so slightly that it was un-noticable to anyone who didn't talk to her on a regular basis.

She looked up at him, and spat in his face.

"Be very careful what you say, whore. Those needles can be very easily arranged." He crouched over her in a squat. "Nobody's coming for you this time, the poor little bitch will have to rot in this place." The two other men stood by the door.

That wasn't true though. Clint had managed to put out a distress call to SHIELD before he got caught. He just hoped they got here in time. Right now, it wasn't looking entirely likely.

Natasha looked up at the guard, even through the dark, he could see her trying to lean towards the guard, in a non-threatening way. Her shoulders were being pulled back by the chains holding her wrist to the walls. As the drug was finally making his way to his mind, slowly his breathing and blurring his vision, he saw Natasha swivel from her kneeling position, lashing out with her legs, and using the chains to get height and force. She hit him square in the face with her leather clad leg and boot.

Clint could vaguely hear the snap in his nose, and winced knowing how that felt. He could imagine the blood going everywhere. As his eye lids began to close, he could hear the guard shout "You fucking bitch!"

The guard swung his leg backwards, and with Natasha's hands behind her, keeping her in place, there was nothing else for her to do, apart from take the kick in the gut. She coughed and spluttered, but she did not scream or cry out. The boot came down again, and again, and again. Eventually, Clint's eyes finally closed all the way, but the guards continued.

* * *

Shivering and shaking, Natasha tried to rise to a sitting position, but the pain was too much. Instead, she was slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own blood. They had kicked her, and hit her head against the wall, so blood was running down her face. Unable to curl up while they attacked her, she knew some serious damage had been done. And she didn't know if she'd recover if SHIELD didn't get her soon enough.

The pain was unbearable, spreading from her abdomen and causing a numb feeling surrounding it, but excruciating pain in the center. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out, but it just drew blood. Unable to control the pain, she groaned, and tried to scream hoping to release some of the pain, but her throat closed up. She was too weak to even cry out.

A movement in the other side of the room caused her wary eyes to dart over there. Clint was moving slightly, rousing from his unconsciousness. He mumbled something, and then sat up, as straight as he could with the chains against the wall. "Natasha!" He shouted.

The room was lighter than it had been before, because of the barred window near the top of the wall. Natasha could see Clint's head was bruised, but she was guessing she looked a hell of a lot worse. Much worse considering Clint's expression of extreme worry and anger.

"Natasha, I swear to God when we get outta here, I'm gonna kick the crap out those guys..." Clint looked like he was about to carry on his rant, but Natasha shook her head, and said "Sssh." She leaned her head against the wall.

Somehow, Natasha could tell she was on her way out. Whether that meant passing out, or worse, the unthinkable. "I'm not lasting long here, Clint." She whispered, surprised by how vulnerable her voice sounded.

"Don't say things like that Nat. I promise that I'll get you outta here, and we'll both walk away from this." Clint sounded desperate, like he was trying to convince himself, just as well as her. She attempted to shake her head again, but that sent a throbbing pain through her skull, so she just sighed.

"No. I know why you're saying that, I've said it to you enough times." Her breath caught in her throat because of another excruciating pain in her stomach. "Just, just tell me a story." She exhaled. Something peaceful to let her just slip away. She would wake up soon enough.

Clint paused. A story? What kind of story? "You remember Budapest, right?" Natasha smiled meekly and nodded, but only subtly. Clint smiled too. "You almost got killed. I was so mad," He said reminiscing. "And for the life of me, excuse the pun, I couldn't figure out why." He stopped smiling, and looked out to the corner of the room.

"And then I knew. That's when I knew I was in love with you." Natasha already knew this, the were sort of together, but nothing really official. With their jobs, it could never be official. "I imagine losing you and it's like my heart sank into my stomach. I knew if you had ... died, a part of me would die with you. And I wouldn't care anymore. About anything."

"I'm sorry." Natasha whispered, weakly.

"Don't be. It's gone, and we're alive now." Clint didn't want to even acknowledge the fact Natasha might not be alive for much longer. It wasn't even comprehend able. "Besides, we'll be outta here. They're probably fighting off Fury at the door as we speak."

Natasha smiled again. It was a peaceful smile, accepting. She didn't know what would happen if she closed her eyes, but she had been so close to death so many times now that the idea didn't frighten her. But that premise itself was a little scary. "I love you Clint. I don't say it enough."

The first time she had 'I love you' it was one of the hardest things for her to ever do. It was when her walls came down, and she knew she had to be serious about Clint. Otherwise she would lose him. They were nothing official, but love wasn't official. It felt stupid saying love, but it really was the only word she could think to use to describe the way she felt about Clint.

"I love you too." Clint replied, trying to show how much he meant it with his rough jagged voice. After a while, there was still no reply. "Natasha?" He called again.

* * *

The only thing Clint missed about Natasha's appearance as it was now, was her eyes. She had bright, shimmering emerald eyes. Now they were closed, with her soft, pale skin coloured eye lid covering them from his view.

Everything else looked like it usually did when she was awake. The blood had been wiped away, and she was clean, with the only marks on her face being bruises, or the rather large cut on her head, that happened to be worrying the doctors.

Her head wasn't where most of the damage was. The guards had killed her stomach with their continuous assault on it. He wanted to rip their heads off. Her stomach had suffered from lots of internal bleeding, and damage that could be irreversible had been sustained.

Clint didn't know how long he had been sitting in the SHIELD hospital wing, by Natasha's side. As soon as the SHIELD team had retracted them successfully, he'd showered, changed and then spent the rest of the time here. All he was sure of is that when he had first gotten there, it was night. Now daylight flooded through the partially open blinds.

She looked peaceful, he'd give her that. Although she wasn't smiling, her face was soft. All the anger and violence in her life flooded from her as she slept, and Clint had always loved that about her. Her pale white cheeks oddly plain, around her fiery red hair. Someone must have brushed it for her, he thought to himself. It was matted when they first got here.

Of course all the Avengers had come to see her, some of them were probably still at SHIELD. But it was all a blur to him. Two things were all he could think about:

One. Natasha. Would she be okay? When would she be up? How bad was the damage? What effects could it have? He needed information, and fast.

Two. What could he of done differently. Surely, somehow, he could have saved her. Gotten there quicker, called for SHIELD earlier. Turn down the mission in the first place? No that she would ever let him do that.

His thoughts were disrupted by a knocking on the door to Natasha's room. He stood as a doctor entered, and gave him a curt nod. "How's it looking Doc'?" He asked, getting straight to the point, the only point._ Natasha. _"When will she wake up?"

"We don't know." The doctor said, solemnly. _"I'm sorry Agent Barton. We just don't know." _


	2. Realisation

**So I extended it! I came up with an idea, and this story is going to have 10 chapters, not as many as_ Nothing We We Ever Prepared For_, but y'know. Anyway, I hope you like it, reviews are very very helpful, my tumblr is in my bio and here is the link for _Nothing We Were Ever Prepared For_, my other Clintasha fic is you haven't read it already s/8546124/1/Nothing-We-Were-Ever-Prepared-For**

* * *

**Realisation **

The room was dark despite the florescent lights out in the hallway of the medical bay. Clint had closed the blinds out to that corridor, where Coulson was signing papers and medical staff were running around. It felt like they were cut off then, just an ordinary couple in a hospital and the woman in the bed with fiery red hair wasn't about to die.

No. Natasha wasn't going to die, Clint was sure she wouldn't. She couldn't. However, something was wrong. The doctors wouldn't tell Clint what it was, but he could just feel it. The people who had captured them when the mission went wrong - because of his stupid mistake, Clint thought - those people must had done something to her.

Soon after Natasha had passed out, and after a bare few tears had rolled down his face, he had passed out too, partially from his injuries, but also exhaustion. When he had woken up, Natasha wasn't there. He could remember the feeling in his stomach, sick with anxiety. Then she had been back, still unconscious, dragged in by guards. But something was different.

In her sleep, a placid smile was on her even paler than usual face, like she had been drugged. She probably had. Clint stayed awake till SHIELD arrived, his eyes only moving from Natasha when he heard movement from planned on demanding the next guard who entered to tell him what happened to Natasha, what they had done. Not that it would of worked. Chained to a wall doesn't really scream intimidating, and he was most definitely not in a position of power.

And now here, she laid still. Her hands were placed folded on her lap, in a way that looked uncomfortable to sleep in, like a body in a coffin. It unnerved Clint. Her porcelain face looked oddly peaceful and calm, but now her lips her pressed into a hard line, not a smile like before. The drugs had most likely worked the way out of her system. Clint wondered if she felt any pain? Could she hear him? If she could, she didn't show it. Still, she looked at ease. Clint would have given anything to feel like that in that moment.

* * *

***Flash Back, Before The Extraction***

White. That's what Natasha could see. That kind of bright white light, that you see even before open your eyes, just the light drumming through your eye lids. In fact, she couldn't open her eyes, not yet. It was like her mind was awake before her body. She couldn't freak out, she'd been trained for situations like this. She had to think. What could she remember?

Clint. Where was he? Where was she? Not in the room they were in before, that was for sure. She felt oddly lifted, as if she wasn't laying on the ground, and the surface beneath her was cold and hard, metal and thick. Eventually, feeling started to reach her, and her eyes fluttered open. She had to turn her head harshly as soon as her eyes opened, because of the bright shining light beating down on her. After moving her head to the side, she could see the room more clearly.

The room was a normal square, with white tiles and white walls. It was very disorientating. Beside the slab she was lying on was a metal table, with delicate but painful looking instruments. Scalpels, needles, things Natasha didn't know what they did, nor did she want to.

The feeling was back in the rest of her body, and she tried to sit up to find she couldn't. Although she couldn't see, her hands, arms, legs and ankles were all strapped to the table. An overwhelming sense of panic raced through her, but she bit her lip and counted to ten.

Deep breaths, she told herself. Clint was here somewhere. All she needed to do was to get out of there. It didn't look likely. The most she could do was lift her head and a bit of her shoulders. Not much use. If she could reach the scalpel on the table, maybe she could use that. Natasha had begun to act when a door slid open.

It disappeared into the wall, and sealed again afterwards, when a man in a suit and tie, and a women in a white lab coat entered. Both of them were smiling, and Natasha gave them the look she reserved for situations when she was powerless; pure hatred.

"Hello Miss. Romanoff. How are you?" The man in the suit was lean and tall, with blonde hair slicked back neatly. Natasha didn't answer. "Not feeling very talkative?"

Natasha spat, and hissed a string of Russian curses. "Now now, Miss Romanoff, that was not very lady like. What man wants a women with a mouth like a sailor? - Oh right. Mr Barton." Natasha narrowed her eyes. "Oh yes, we heard your heart warming little conversation here."

"Truly touching, really. But before we start, you may want to know a few things, I'm Mr Malcom, Marcus Malcom, and the head of our facility. You are doped up on our own special pain medication. As you know, because no doubt you found the information before we found you, we are running our own medical researches. Our pain killers eliminate the pain, but leaving you with out the side effects. You're welcome." He flashed a smile, and Natasha looked away.

"But you are still pretty injured. Anyway, we're not stupid. We know Barton contacted SHIELD and we know we can't take them. Think of this as a desperate last attempt before Dr. Bowen here and I flee the scene of the crime. Crumble SHIELD from the inside, you know?" The woman behind him gave a little wave. She was quite short, with jet black hair pinned back off of her face. He face looked quite serious, but not too menacing. "Dr. Bowen, care to explain the procedure?" Mr. Malcom smiled and Dr. Bowen returned it.

"My pleasure." He voice was rather plain, but she was smiling as she spoke. "We have been dabling for some time in the area of our memories and where they are stored in the brain. We believe a certain chemical reaction is what causes up to feel, and remember things. Love is a chemical reaction Miss Romanoff, remember that." She turned around and picked up a tray from the other side of the room.

"So we began on a reverse. Something to take away memories and emotions. And we thought, who would be a better test subject than the one and only Black Widow?"

No. Natasha's eyes darted towards their faces. They were completely serious. "You can't. You wouldn't." Her voice was low and threatening. The way she had meant for it to sound.

"Oh, but Agent, we can. And we will." Mr Malcom said it as if it wasn't completely inhumane. "Dr, if you will." He stepped back and folded his hands. Bowen stepped forwards at the same time.

In her hand she had a needle. A blue liquid was bubbling in the needle, and the doctor hovered over Natasha. Natasha began swearing again, growling and squirming, but it was no use. She felt the needle pierce her skin, and a weird stinging sensation as the liquid flowed from the needle and into her vein. And then blackness clouded her vision.

* * *

Clint awoke to the sound of rain on the windows of Natasha's hospital room. The rain was coming down hard and fast, and through the window, Clint could make out a clouded sky. This was actually Natasha favourite kind of weather. When it rained, she would sit and watch it for hours. She said it relaxed her. It made everything look different, a whole different escape and world. Clint just felt lucky to be included in that world. Not many people were.

The room looked exactly the same from when he drifted off to sleep, a part from the flowers had been changed. Natasha's favourite flowers were white lilies, but Pepper refused to let him bring her any. Lilies were apparently a symbol of death. Another change was a post-it note on the foot of Natasha hospital bed. Curious, Clint picked it up.

_**No change. Still stable.**_

_**Coulson. **_

She was still holding on. That was the Natasha Clint had known. Knew, he mentally corrected himself. The stubbornness clearly was still present while she was unconscious. Figures. Clint smirked to himself.

He pulled the chair from where he had been snoozing, and dragged it over towards Natasha. He rested his head on the bed and held Natasha's pale and cold hand. "So how you holding up, Tash?" He spoke to her, as if she was listening. For all he knew, she was.

"So, three weeks is kinda long time to be asleep? Or I guess you're in a coma? That's what the doctors say, but I don't really like saying it. I've been here every day y'know? You'd probably call me sad, truth is SHIELD is pretty quiet, and Avengers Tower isn't really the same without you. Sure I go back there, hang with the guys for a bit. But I'm here everyday too."

"This isn't like those soppy films you hate, by the way. It's not like I'm by your side while your dying. It's like every other mission we've ever been on. One of us gets hurt, but we're back eventually. Right?" Tears threatened to roll down his face. "Right?" He asked again, sniffing slightly.

He went out after a little while, to say hello to everyone. He laughed with everyone else and joked too, but she was still in the back of his mind. Mostly because of the fact it was his fault. It was obviously his fault.

* * *

Clint had fallen asleep in the SHIELD hospital bay staff room. He knew a few people there and went there to chat. Eventually he wandered back to Natasha's room. It's where he always ended up, as if for the past three weeks, it was the center of his mind.

The room was darker now, with shadow's cast across her pale face and lips. Her scarlet hair was sprawled out on the cushion behind her. Her hands were still folded. Clint wanted to turn on the lights, but it seemed rude, as if to awaken her. If it was only that easy. Instead, he turned on her bedside light.

He ended up leaning against the window again, rain still pouring down. It was around seven o'clock. He had to head home soon, but didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with Natasha, in the room where the rain pattered on the windows, and the room that still had Natasha's scent.

But he had been late every night that week, and Bruce was making dinner that night. It would be rude to miss it, again. Clint turned to walk out of the room, but stopped in his tracks. Something wasn't the same as before.

His eyes scanned the room. Everything was in place. Turning to face Natasha, it clicked. Her hands now lay by her sides.

"Natasha?" Clint stuttered, unsure if his tormented mind was imagining things. He kneeled besides Natasha, cupping her face. "Natasha?" He said more firmly this time.

Slowly her eyes began to flutter, and they opened. Not wide, lazily, like someone who hadn't opened them for three weeks would. But they were still the bright green he remembered. "Natasha." He exhaled.

He did exhale, breathing out again, like for the first time. Since Natasha had been under, he held was holding his breath, worried and nervous, stomach twisting. And now it felt like he could breath. It felt like pure relief. He pressed a kiss to her lips, only lightly.

And she moved away. Her eyes wider now, confused. "Where am I?" Her Russian accent was showing slightly, but more so than Clint had heard in a while.

"You're in SHIELD." Still a little hurt from her backing away, he reached for her hand. But she moved that away too, shifting to the other side of the bed. "You're safe now. It's all okay."

Natasha looked around, as if trying to see if what he said was true. She looked down at her hospital bed, the IV drip in her arm, her heart monitor. When she looked up, her lips were pursed, and her eyes disorientated. "Who are you?"


	3. Awakening

**Wow, sorry this is so late. Like really late. Thank you for all your kind reviews, they mean a lot.**

**Another thing that would mean a lot to me, is if you guys would follow my new tumblr blog _just-fandom-writing_. I'll post updates on this fic, my other Clintasha fic and other little one shots and ficlets I write, for Stony as well. **

**Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. I plan to update _Nothing We Were Ever Prepared For_ tomorrow, but that may change. Reviews are very welcome, and so are any other wise words you may have for me.**

* * *

A stony silence filled the room and Clint's whole body tensed. "Nat, what do you mean?" He was still leaning on the side of Natasha's bed however, Natasha was sitting as far away as possible from Clint.

Without warning she lunged at him, throwing herself out of bed, the IV drip ripping out of her arm as she pinned Clint against the wall, arm along his throat. "I mean, who are you, and what am I doing at SHIELD of all places? Am I a hostage? Because they'll be back for me, if I don't get out by myself. And I'm telling you - ah!"

Natasha doubled over, clutching her stomach, groaning. "Natasha!" Forgetting the violent out burst, Clint dropped to his knees, reaching out for Natasha who cowered away. "Is it your stomach, should I call the doctors?"

"Get back," She ordered, pressing herself against the wall. "Get back or I swear I'll rip your lungs out." Her voice was rugged and her accent lay just beneath the surface.

"Natasha, it's Clint. Clint Barton, you really don't remember me? Hawkeye?" Her head flipped towards him, her scarlet hair swishing and green eyes piercing through him.

"Hawkeye? The Hawkeye that was going to be sent to kill me? Is that why I'm here? You took me back to base to finish me off? Answer. Me." She made to move towards him again, but she was wounded and he was ready.

He grabbed her wrists, and spun her to pin her against the wall. "Natasha, you need to calm down, let me explain, okay?" She spat at him. "Jesus Christ Natasha, please, please listen to me."

Natasha couldn't move. She couldn't hit or kick him. She couldn't run away. She froze. "You have thirty seconds."

"I'm working with what I have here," Clint began. "Around eight years ago, you were in and worked for the Red Room as an assassin, which is what I'm assuming you remember now. What you said was true, I was being sent to kill you, but I didn't. I made a different call and brought you back here, to SHIELD. For the past eight years, you and I have been partners, best friends, even ..." He was blabbering, and he couldn't tell her about them.

"Why should I believe that?" Natasha asked, staring at him, eyes fierce. Clint's face relaxed, and he sighed. Slowly, he released her wrists.

"You have no right to." Clint backed away and sunk onto the bed, pressing his head into his hands. "If you won't listen to me, surely there's someone else you'll listen to. Someone else you remember? Nick? Maria? Surely you remember Coulson?"

Natasha shook her head, obviously confused by his sincerity, but still not letting her guard down. "What about Steve? Tony, Bruce, Thor? Pepper, Jane, Darcy, Pepper, Loki for God's sake!" He shouted.

"I'm sorry, Clint." His name sounded strange and foreign on her tongue. Clint looked up to see a fist spiraling towards him, without time for him to duck.

* * *

Natasha slipped into a cupboard just outside her hospital room and found the light. There were scrubs and a single white lab coat. Less conspicuous than her hospital gown at least. She changed as silently as possible, surveying the damage to her body. Bruising, and lots of it. But where from? Had they tortured her and she couldn't remember it? She didn't know. All she knew was she had to find a way out of here.

Before stepping out of the cupboard, Natasha readied herself. Once out, she walked with her head down, keeping out of main sight. Suddenly, people starting rushing. It was difficult to keep her cool once she realised she was the reason they were rushing.

"She's gone. Agent Romanoff is gone." She over heard someone saying to another man, and she ducked her head, and headed in the opposite direction. "Agent Barton has regained consciousness and says we need to search for Natasha, he won't explain just yet."

Natasha had no choice, so she glanced around for a second, and ducked into an empty room. It was white and sterile, and looked like a place where procedures would probably take place. There was a large window and she rushed to look. She was three floors up. She could probably find a way down sometime, but she just didn't have the time. Everyone was searching for her, and in any moment in time someone would enter the room, and she would back in SHIELD's grasp. It wasn't worth it.

There was a medical curtain that separated the room into two halves. She pulled it across and hid behind it, trying to think. To get out, she needed to get past everyone. God knows how many agents were in the medical bay alone, she couldn't fight them all. But she was fast, and escaping past them would be easy. Surely the Red Room were monitoring her situation and there would be someone near by. All she'd have to do was trigger them. But how?

Suddenly, the door opened and she heard voices from behind the curtain. She took a deep breath and stayed very still. "This sucks, man. Clint must be tearing himself up. What did he even say had happened?" A man's voice sounded, and he sat down somewhere behind the curtain. A second man moved about the room, gathering things from cabinets. Natasha changed her stance slightly, but silently. Her hands curled into fists, but she wasn't sure how well she could fight. Her stomach's pain hadn't subsided, but she resisted the urge to double over or cry out. She felt her head dampened, and realised her head injury had re-opened, and blood was trickling down her face.

"He said she didn't remember anything. Nothing from her time at SHIELD, or any of us. But he didn't explain much, just said to find her." The two men's voices seemed somewhat familiar, in a distant way that Natasha couldn't place. And even though she could tell they were talking about her, none of it made sense.

"And what exactly are we doing here, Bruce?" The other man sounded impatient, but the second one remained calm.

"We're making a sedative for when we find her. Well, I am. You'll probably sit and talk while I do it." Bruce remarked and the other man sniffed.

"I resent that, you know? I am Tony Stark, I don't just sit around on my ass all day." His voice sounded oddly familiar to Natasha, as well as the other man's. Of course it did, she thought. That man said he was Tony Stark. CEO of a major weapons company. She'd seen interviews with him on TV, but she still couldn't place the other man's voice.

"Hey, Tony, look and see if there are any needles I can use back there. There aren't around here." She could see their silhouettes through the curtain, where Bruce remained at the counter. Tony however, was walking towards the curtain. Towards Natasha.

He pulled open a cabinet and pulled out a packet. "Here you go." He tossed them over his shoulder towards Bruce. Bruce carried on working for a second, but Tony still remained close to the curtain. Too close for Natasha's liking. "What are you doing back there?" He asked.

"Just looking around. What is even behind this curtain, it's not like -" He stopped mid sentence. Natasha was standing in front of him, blood dripping down her pale face, and her emerald eyes standing out against her skin. "Natasha, listen to us. You don't remember us, but we're your friends." He held his hands out in front of him.

"Why would I believe you!" She lunged towards Tony, ignoring the increasingly throbbing pain in her head and stomach. Tony dodged, only narrowly. Natasha kicked out and hit Tony square in the stomach, sending him into a tray of hospital supplies.

Natasha began to turn around to take care of Bruce, when she felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck. Suddenly, numbness was seeping out from that area. She fell to the ground, feeling paralyzed. Bruce was kneeling besides her, hauling her up into a sitting position. "Sorry Nat." He said, remorsefully.

* * *

Natasha had decided she was getting increasingly sick of waking up in foreign hospital rooms. This one was different from the first though. There was no flowers, or comforting blankets, or wide windows. This was plain and bright. She was strapped to the bed.

It appeared SHIELD had thought of ever possible scenario of her getting out, because there was nothing in the room that could help her. She was isolated.

The door to the room opened quietly, and Natasha could just seen the top of someone's head. "Nice to see you're awake, Agent Romanoff." The man's placid face came into view. He wore a smart suit and tie, and had an ear piece in. He looked important, too important to be being fed lines.

"Why are you calling me that? I'm not your agent." She remarked bitterly. He gave a weak smile and she continued glaring at him.

"Actually Natasha, you are." He pulled up a chair, and sat next to her. Natasha stared straight forwards after that, determined not to look at him. "My name is Agent Phil Coulson. I'm your handler. And I'm here to tell you what is going on. Well, what we know of what is going on."

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked. She couldn't trust these people, but she was still intrigued. They all seemed so sincere, but she knew SHIELD was good, they had the best agents. If it was anyone but Natasha, they might have fallen for it.

"You went on a mission with your partner, Agent Clint Barton, otherwise known as Hawkeye. You had an encounter with him today in fact. Anyway, you got caught, and practically tortured by them - that's why your head and stomach injuries have come from. From what we know, they experimented on you." Natasha finally turned her head. Coulson's expression was still calm, although he was clenching his jaw, as if it was hard for him to talk about it.

"Once they knew SHIELD has been contacted, they left, and we raided the place and brought you home. You were in a coma for around three weeks. You woke up today, and suddenly you didn't remember anything for the last eight years. We then pieced it together, with the research we took when we extracted you and Agent Barton. They had been looking into the science of memories. They created a chemical to removed them, or in other words block them. We can reverse the effects, by jolting them with another chemical. Our scientists are working on it right now."

Natasha's face slackened. It all seemed to fit. But it couldn't be true. "I have no way of getting out of here." She stated calmly. Coulson shook his head. "And I'll be watched at all times?"

"Naturally." He tilted his head. "But make no mistake Natasha, while we are holding you against your will for the time being, it's best. If you returned to the Red Room, if you could even find them, you would be killed on sight."

Biting her lip, Natasha turned her head. The throbbing had stopped mostly, and she stared at the ceiling. "So I'll stay. And if it doesn't work? If you've been lying?"

Coulson shook his head. "We wouldn't be going through the trouble. Most likely we'd have killed your or you'd be in a prison cell by now."

"And what is this then? It looks like a cell." Natasha muttered, feeling utterly hopeless.

"No, it's a recovery room." Coulson waited and when Natasha didn't reply, he said "We'll see you in a while, and the chemical should be ready by then." And with that he left.

* * *

About a week had passed and SHIELD's so called best scientists still hadn't managed to create the chemical they needed. Natasha had been monitored constantly, and after he'd decided he wasn't as bitter anymore, Clint decided to pay her a visit.

Clint hated the room they had put Natasha in. It looked like they were keeping her hostage, captive, and technically they were. He watched through the window they had in the door to her room. Her head fell to her left, but her body could not turn because of the straps.

Before opening the door, Clint took a deep breath. Natasha didn't even look to see who came in. Her hands were no longer clenched into defiant fists, instead they hung limply. Her red hair was flickered in front of her eyes, and Clint wanted nothing more than to brush it out of their way, so he could see them properly.

"Natasha." He greeted, keeping his voice surprisingly steady. There was no reply. "How are you feeling?" Again, no reply. "We're friends, y'know? Best friends. I care about you a lot." He said, and she moved her head slightly.

"You care about me?" She asked, her voice monotone. Clint nodded.

"More than you probably understand." He sat down in the seat Coulson had previously sat in, and Natasha's green eyes followed him.

"Then you can do something for me." Natasha said quietly. Clint hesitated. There actually wasn't much he could do for her, until they had used the chemical.

"What?" He asked, slightly suspicious. He wanted nothing more than to help Natasha. It killed him inside for her to look at him like she didn't know him. She actually didn't know him, and he still had all these emotions for her. He settled himself by reminding himself that tomorrow, after she was back to normal, this would all be over, and they'd sort everything out between them.

"Untie me." She requested, enunciating each word. Clint grimaced, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Tasha, I can't do that, you know I can do -" He shook his head and leaned forwards, but Natasha cut him off mid sentence.

"I won't try anything. Look at me, I can't try anything. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm too weak. You're here, I'm locked in from the outside, and you have this place surrounded. I would just get hurt." Natasha's voice was pleading, and Clint sighed. "Just try. Please."

"Hold on." He stood and walked to the corner of the room, aware that Natasha was watching. He put a finger to his ear piece and heard Coulson's voice on the other end. "She wants me to untie her. I know but - but - Phil, just listen. We have guards everywhere. The door is locked from the outside, and there is literally nothing in this room that could help her. Plus I'm here. And she really is too weak to try anything. Yeah - yeah, I know. Okay, any sign of trouble and they'll be right back on. Thanks Phil."

He turned back to face Natasha, who's face was still void of emotion. Her eyes, her bright green eyes, looked a little sad. Sad and confused. She wasn't looking at him anymore, she was staring at nothing, but quite intently.

"I can take them off." He announced, and her attention again reverted to him. She didn't say anything. Carefully, he walked towards her, and began undoing the straps at her feet. After he undid the first one, she curled and flexed her toes, and the same after the other one was loose.

He untied her right hand first, but she didn't move it after it was her's to use again. He walked around the bed to her left side, and knelt down to untie the very last strap. Natasha's face was only inches away from him now, and he could see every detail.

The light freckles that lined her nose, but only very faintly. Her lips were parted slightly, and rose coloured. Clint remembered the last time he had kissed those lips, the night before the extraction. Once the last one was free, she ducked her head down.

Natasha pulled her limbs inwards, until she was curled up in the fetal position. She exhaled slowly, and closed her eyes, but Clint could tell she wasn't sleeping.

"How come you're speaking to me?" Clint asked, after a few moments of silence. He had gotten up and had seated himself back in the chair. "Coulson says every time someone visits you, you're silent."

Natasha didn't say anything. "I'm tired." She stated simply, but her voice was rough. "I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of being silent. I don't want to give in, but I have no choice." Clint had only seen Natasha cry around five times, but there was no way she'd do it while she was here.

"I'm sorry Nat." She untucked her head slightly, and looked at him. "If I had called the extraction team sooner, they wouldn't have had time to experiment, and you'd still remember me, and everyone else. They're going crazy you know?"

"Who are?" She asked, absentmindedly. She looked calm, and less tense than before. Clint guessed she thought if they were going to kill or hurt her, they would have done it by now.

"Your friends. Our friends, I guess. They work with us sometimes. There's Tony and Bruce, who you met earlier. Steve is cool. And Thor too." He looked around the room, not concentrating.

"Thor?" Her brow furrowed. Clint gave a shaky laugh.

"It's complicated." He smiled at Natasha, and she found herself smiling back. It wasn't a happy smile, it was actually quite smile. In that smile held so much pain, confusion, and loss. Clint would give anything to take it all away.

"Can I ask you something?" Natasha looked away again, and closed her eyes. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and exhaled, pushing her shoulder's down.

"Shoot." Clint replied, leaning back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. Maybe Natasha might actually get some sleep soon.

"What's the weather like outside?" She opened her eyes and gazed up at Clint.

"It's raining." He answered, wanting to reach out and take her hand. "It's always raining." And that time, when Natasha smiled, there was a little less pain, a little less confusion, and a little less loss in it.


	4. Restoration

**Alll done! I hope you like this chapter. Still a bit ( a lot ) angsty, but I'll try and get some fluff in soon. Follow me on tumblr for updates about this and my other stories. It's _just-fandom-writing_. Also, check out_ Nothing We Were Ever Prepared For_, my other Clintasha fic that's on here ( ) or on my tumblr too. I love your reviews and thank you for being so supportive. Keep them coming, because they always make me smile. Hope you like this chapter.**

* * *

At the Avenger's tower, Clint stayed up in his room. Apart from his visits to SHIELD, where he sat in Natasha's recovery room, while she spent time curled up on her 'bed', that's where he stayed. Natasha had been in that room for a week, and they hadn't perfected the chemical yet.

It was driving him crazy. When he looked at Natasha, he saw the last eight years of her life. He saw pain, and loss, but a lot of gain, and happiness. Clint remembered missions, Budapest and others. He remembered the nights after missions, hours in each others arms, listening to the rain pattering on wherever they happened to be sleeping that night.

It was raining again now. It always seemed to rain on the days he visited Natasha. He wanted to visit everyday, but everyone, Coulson and the Avengers said that it was unhealthy. He guessed they were right.

That day Natasha had been particularly quiet. She seemed to be getting weaker. The SHIELD doctors had been monitoring her, and keeping her as healthy as possible, but she didn't make it easy. She didn't eat, and barely slept. She just lay, curled in a ball, and lashed out every time a doctor got close.

_"Don't touch me!" She had screamed that day. "Reverse this if you can, but until then don't touch me, don't talk to me!" Once she had stopped kicking at the doctors, __Clint barged into the room._

_"Out of the way!" He barked, and the doctors who had now strapped Natasha down again moved away. He leaned over her, but her eyes were screwed shut, as if she refused to believe she was here. She hands, though tied, kept curling and uncurling into fists. _

_"Natasha. Open your eyes." He whispered, and the doctors exited the room. Carefully, Natasha opened her eyes. Hatred brew in them. "Why, why are you doing this?" He was angry. Angry because Natasha was driving herself crazy. If she listened to the doctors, and ate, and slept, and let them treat her wounds, then when the chemical was ready, she would have no problem._

_"I'm not doing anything!" She shouted at him, thrashing against the ties. He grabbed her chin, and held her face still with his hands, and held her gaze with his angered eyes._

_"You're killing yourself." He spat the middle word at her. She continued to glare at him. "All I want to know is why? Why won't you let us help you?" His voice had calmed down again now._

_"Because I want to die! I'm being held here against my will, I'm being fed words, being told that I'm not the person I remember, with all these people around here. When I look at the others, I feel emotions and feelings, but I don't know why, or even who they are! When at look at you? I know I meant something to you. But I can't feel anything! They told me yesterday the chemical would be ready today, and the same the day before. If I'm going to be stuck any longer in a world I know nothing of, I'll go insane. So I want to die!" She was screaming by the time she had finished speaking. _

_Clint had turned his back towards her as she spoke, running a hand through his hair. But when she had finished speaking, he turned back towards her and stood over her. "Don't you dare, don't you ever say that again." He warned._

_"That I want to die?" She smiled. It was a weird smile. It looked pained, and saddened, yet somehow amused. "Does that hurt you? Well it's true!" _

_"No!" Clint roared. "We have been through far too much for you to want that. We have pulled ourselves up, and patched ourselves back together too many times for that to be even a possibility for you! Because that's what we do Nat, that's why we're the best. Because we carry on, when nobody else will. We have risked far too much for you to say anything like that. I personally have put myself on the line time and time again for you. So don't you dare ever say that you want to die." His voice was somehow steady when he finished speaking._

_"Clint." Natasha's voice was rough now, from the shouting most likely. It was the first time she had addressed him by his name. "I'm sorry." She whispered. Clint sat down silently in his chair. They remained silent for the rest of the time there. _

Clint played the scene over again in his head. When Coulson had come in and told him it was time to leave, Natasha was merely staring at the ceiling. He had then walked to his car, and drove home in a fury. Clint then walked straight to his room and shut the door. That had been three hours ago. It was around 8 PM now.

Then he could hear footsteps. Soft ones at first, in a brisk walk towards his room, and then second ones following, but running this time. Clint sat up from lying on his bed, as his door swung open. Tony stood out of breath, he'd obviously been the one running, and Steve was smiling behind his.

"Clint," Tony said between breaths. "The chemical. They've got it." Tony's face erupted in a huge smile, and Bruce appeared behind them, smiling too. Finally, Clint let himself smile too. A real smile for the first time in weeks. He ran forward and enveloped the three in a hug. And Clint wasn't a hugging guy.

* * *

Natasha stared at the ceiling. On that ceiling, there were exactly 72 tiles, and 4 with cracks in them. Let's just say, Natasha had had a lot of time to count. The bright white was beginning to fade, and she could see the slightly less clean, faded yellow seeping in from all four corners of the room.

Clint had visited again that day. He'd gotten angry at her. Natasha would of like to of said she didn't care, but she did. Anyone else at SHIELD, and it wouldn't of bothered her, she couldn't have cared less. But there was something in Clint's eyes that made her feel guilty for putting him through this. Not that she could help it.

But the thing that haunted Natasha, was that the thing she remembered most about Clint was the way he had looked when she had first woken up. Although she had been so dazed and so confused, that look still stuck in her mind. There was joy and hope, filling his eyes to the brim. And then Natasha had torn that away without a second glance. She didn't even know the man who's heart she had broken, but she had hated herself for it.

Wasn't that funny? Natasha didn't care about that sort of thing. She didn't care about breaking hearts or hurting people, emotionally, or physically, but she did care about hurting Agent Barton.

Suddenly, the door to her room open, and she met the eyes of about 9 people. In front of her stood Coulson, Clint, the other 'friends' as Clint referred to them as, Natasha remembered Tony and Bruce, and guessed the one with the long blonde hair was Thor, making the other Steve. With them were also some doctors, one holding a brief case.

It took a moment but Natasha noticed something different. Clint wasn't really smiling, but he definitely looked happy. Happier than Natasha had seen him in a while. In fact, the only time she'd seen him happier was when she had first woken up.

"What's going on?" She asked nervously. Clint did smile then. He stepped in front of Coulson and the doctors and knelled by her.

"Nat, the chemical's ready." His eyes were as wide as she'd ever seen them, and her eyes then widened to match. Finally, she'd get out of this room. She'd be able to look at this people around her and not only recognise them, but recall memories. _Her_ memories.

"When will you do the procedure?" She asked, looking around at the people in the room. With the exception of Coulson, they were all smiling, but their personality shone through in those smiles. Tony smirked, Thor beamed, Steve grinned and the corners of Bruce mouth twitched slightly. Natasha didn't smile though. It could be a trap after all.

"Actually," Coulson stepped forwards. Clint looked up from her side to glance at the Agent. "We brought the doctors with us so we could do it now.

"Do it." Natasha said without hesitation. "Do it now, do anything. Just get me out of here." The thought of leaving that room would of brought a big smile to her face, if it wasn't for the fact she still had her poker face in gear.

Clint's smile began to fade as he met eyes with Coulson, as if they were having a conversation no one else could hear. "You know Nat," He paused. "There's a chance it might not work."

That thought had obviously occurred to Natasha before, however, by this point she was prepared to try anything. "Just do it." She said through gritted teeth. Clint's mouth slid into a hard line and he nodded to her. He looked at the doctors and jerked his head towards her, as if to say "Get working already!"

They obviously understood because they got up and moved towards her. The doctors opened the briefcase and inside were two needles. One held a clear coloured liquid, the other was a slightly stranger purple liquid.

"First Natasha, we will knock you out, using the first needle. The second, the purple one, contains our answer to the chemical they used on you in the first place. When you wake up, most of your memory will be restored." The doctor had light brown floppy hair, and was quite slim. He bent down and starting prepping the first needle.

"Wait." Natasha made the doctor look up. She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'most'?" She asked. The doctor stood up straight and cough.

"Their, uh, chemical was a lot stronger than ours. We believe the way our ... antidote will work is it will trigger the memories they pushed back into your conscience. But, some of your, er, stronger attachments and memories may not return straight away. The stronger your memories, and your feelings towards them, the harder it will be for you to remember them." He mumbled slightly.

"But I will get them back eventually, right?" Natasha asked, staring the doctor down.

"If my theories are right, then most likely." She continued giving him the death stare. "But the odds of this happening are highly doubted." He added quickly. "Shall we begin?" Natasha waited a moment, setting the young doctor on edge before nodding.

He injected the clear liquid into her arm and she slowly felt herself getting very sleeping. She looked at the blurred faces around her. Only Clint really stood out. "I'll be here when you wake up. As for you guys," He turned to the others in the room. "Let's go, c'mon, out."

Natasha didn't even see them leave before her eyes closed and the mind gave out. The first sleep she'd had in days.

* * *

Most of the Avengers, were actually pretty tolerant. Although, by time Clint had been pacing for two hours straight, they were all pretty sick of it.

"Barton, can you sit down, at least for a second?" Tony called from his position on the couch they had in the SHIELD's staff medical bay, feet up on the coffee table.

"Yeah Clint." Steve agreed. "Natasha's fine, the doctors said so. She's just still asleep for now." He clasped a coffee cup between his hands.

Bruce stood up. "Speaking of sleep, maybe you should get some." He mentioned, pushing his glasses further up his nose, and then wringing his hands together.

Clint sighed. Natasha was okay, and he knew it. Maybe he should relax. It would be for the first time in weeks. "I'm just worried about her." He admitted, although the rest of the team already knew.

"Friend, we had grasped that you are nervous, but you are making yourself panic for no reason. We know that our team mate is fine and will no doubt remember us when she wakes. Rest, and relax." Thor's voice was booming and joyous.

"Yeah. I will. I'll go find a spare room and lie down for a bit." Clint nodded to himself and left the room. The rest of the team breathed a sigh of relief.

Tony was the first to speak. "Finally. Then we can just move on from this mess." He leaned back and rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes

"I hope so." Bruce muttered, and looked out the window. It was getting cloudy, looked like a storm was heading their way.

"What do you mean you 'hope so'? After Nat wakes up, everything will go back to normal and we can get on with our lives. Well, as normal as our lives will ever be." Tony opened his eyes to stare at his fellow scientist.

Bruce took off his glasses to polish them. "You heard the doctor. There's a possibility that anything she feels strongly about may not be gained with the rest of her memories."

"Yeah. So?" Tony questioned. Steve looked up towards the conversation.

"Look, we can all pretend we don't know it, but it's obvious they're in love with each other. Or something close to it." Steve piped in and Tony turned to look at him.

"Steve's right Tony. Natasha doesn't feel as strongly about anything as she does about Clint. And you know what that means." Bruce put his glasses back on and stood up.

"Oh shit." Tony breathed out. "If she doesn't, he could be a wreck for God know's how long."

Bruce nodded, and Steve put his head in his hands, running them through his blonde hair. When he surfaced, his was grimacing, but focused. "We just have to hope for the best. And be there for him if things don't go as well."

* * *

A pounding head was the first thing Natasha noticed when she woke up. When she managed to open her eyes, her vision was hazy, and she could just make out the faint patter of rain from the windows in her hospital room. It felt like someone had dropped a bus on her.

The second thing she realised, was that her arms and legs were strapped down. They jogged her memory into gear and the cogs started turning. She had been captured, and those people had erased her memory. The restraints were there because she had spent the last week or so not knowing who anyone was, and lashing out at anyone who got close.

Natasha was comforted by the SHIELD hospital room. For one, it was much nicer and homely than her 'recovery room', which Natasha thought was just a pleasant name for a cell. She'd talk to Coulson about that later.

That thought made her smile. She'd missed her handler. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him in a while, but it felt like that. And she wanted to she the rest of the Avengers too. But something wasn't right. Everything seemed a little fuzzy. Moments blurred, fragments of things she couldn't quite remember. Everything seemed fine though.

It took a lot of strength, but Natasha sat up, as much as her ties would let her, and glanced around the room. Underneath her bed, there was a button right by her finger. She pressed it and a trilling bell noise sounded. That must of alerted them that she was awake.

Figuring that the nurses and doctors and Avengers would be there soon enough, she took the last moment that she'd get to herself for a while. She listened to the rain, and decided that it was getting heavier, faster too. Suddenly, thunder sounded and she saw the flash of lightening fill the room. She wanted to open the windows and breath in the smell of the rain.

Running footsteps sounded down the corridor, and she heard voices too. About 10 or 12 people poked their heads into the room before entering. Doctors and nurses, Tony, Steve, Bruce and Thor too.

"Natasha!" Ton grinned and stood with his hands on his hips. "'Bout time too." He smirked.

"Watch it, Stark. I'm injured, but I could still take you." She couldn't help but smile back. "Well, I could. If someone untied me." All at once, all the nurses leaped forwards to release her.

"Good to have you back, Nat." Steve stood on her right side and placed a calm hand on her shoulder.

"Good to be back, Cap." Natasha retorted, stretching out her arms and legs after they were loose. "Seems I got my memory back then."

"We'll see about that. Hey Nat." Bruce smiled and raised a hand for an awkward wave. Natasha nodded firmly. Bruce leaned in to Steve and whispered in his ear, both had serious faces. "I'll be right back." He said after they had finished talking.

"Natasha! Good to see you're back for another bout, and looking well too." Thor beamed and Natasha laughed.

"Yeah, I'm back. The Avengers would be nothing without me anyway." She smirked to herself, but inside, she was worried. Although many things were flooding her memory back, there were still big gaps too. It frightened her to imagine what she didn't remember.

"Too right we would." Steve agreed, smiling at his friend. Although, his mind was in other places. Such as where Bruce had gone and how quickly he would return. It would be good to get this out of the way early.

Eventually the doctors and nurses drifted away and it was merely Natasha, Tony and Steve. Thor had disappeared to retrieve coffee for everyone. The three left made idle chatter about what she had missed. Not much apparently.

A shuffling noise in the doorway made Natasha look up. Bruce stood there, twiddling his hands together. Next to him was an apparent SHIELD agent, with dark blonde hair and a disgruntled face. "You guys should of woken me up." He grumbled sleepily.

Something about the Agent's voice made Natasha's heart jump. It was familiar in a confusing way. Like something she had possibly heard before in a dream. She'd probably seen him around SHIELD before.

Outside the rain was still pouring, but the thunder had stopped. The Agent moved around the room, and began opening the windows. The refreshingly clean smell of rain came seeping in and Natasha inhaled deeply. "Why are you doing that?" Natasha asked, slightly curious.

"Because that's the way you like it, Nat." He answered. Natasha smiled. This guy seemed pretty cute.

"Well, if you know my name, I think it's only fit that I know your's." She flirted, in her mysterious and alluring way.

Everyone in the room froze, especially the Agent. "It's Clint, Natasha. Don't ... Don't you remember?" His smile disintegrated. Natasha shook her head, and then it hit her. He must of been one of her gaps. "You still don't remember?" His voice seemed like it was trying to refrain from shaking. "You don't even remember me from your recovery cell!?" He asked, obviously his temper was rising.

"Clint, calm down. I told you my theory outside didn't I?" Bruce stepped in front of him, placing calming hands on his chest, trying to get him to move away.

"I know Bruce, I know, but God! Can I not get a break around here? Just one fucking break!" He shouted, running a hand through his hair, looking close to tears.

"Clint, I - " Natasha was cut off by a look from Steve. Now was not the time. Steve got up, and guiding Clint from the room. "Bruce. What was your theory?" She asked, desperate for some kind of answer.

Bruce sighed heavily. "I figured SHIELD went the wrong way about the chemical. It pushed some of your memories, some of your strongest ones, to the back of your mind so to speak. Including some new ones from the recovery room. Tell, think back to leaving the red room, or fighting Loki last year. Is it all a bit fuzzy, gaps missing?" She nodded. "That's because Clint was there."

Natasha, unsure of what to do, decided she need to be alone. "Would you guys mind leaving me for a bit? I need to rest." Bruce and Tony nodded, leaving. "Bruce?" She called. He stopped before walking out. "What was he to me? Clint, that is?" She asked.

Bruce smiled slightly, as if thinking of his own memories. "Your best friend. Probably more than that. A lot more."


	5. Adjusting

**Hello. I'm sorry. Really really sorry. I've been really busy and tired and did I mention writers block is the worst thing in the world? Well, I'm back now and I hope you like this chapter. I should be updated _Nothing We Were Ever Prepared For_ today of tomorrow too. If you did review, I'd love you forever and shout out to all the people who already have, you guys make me wanna right. Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha's head felt like puzzle. An extremely difficult puzzle, made for the word's smartest minds to spend years on - or Tony Stark 15 minutes. It was jumbled and confused, memories came and went. For a week little details she had been trained to focus on slipped her memory. Things like her doctors names, what she had for breakfast, things the Avengers had informed her on.

Of course she was remembering things too. Details of solo missions from years before, her favourite things, film - Inception, band - 30 Seconds To Mars, foods - Sushi, and odd things about her friends. Like how Steve read the newspaper every single morning. Or how Tony took his coffee black with no sugar.

But everything she was supposed to know about her partner evaded her. She did her own research of course, trying to jog her own memories, to no success. She had spoken with her handler, Coulson, to learn about her friend the agent.

His name was Francias Barton, but he was known as Clint. Or Hawkeye. He had grown up in the circus performing his archery act, and was the best archer in the world - that SHIELD knew of. He was her partner ever since he recruited her from the Red Room.

Triggers prompted her memories, some good, some bad. She remembered the feeling when she met the Hulk for the first time. Pure, utter, terror. But also feelings came back to her, without actual memories. She felt a strange peacefulness when it rained, as it was now.

SHIELD was still monitoring her, so she hadn't been dismissed from the medical bay yet. At least now she was allowed out of bed, and now found herself standing at her window.

A gust of wind blew through the open space and she clutched her hospital gown closer to her body, bracing against the icy cold. The rain somehow wasn't coming through the windows but she wished it was. She longed for the cool patter on her skin. Natasha realised she hadn't been outside more than a month seeing as she had been in here for another week since receiving part of her memory back. Since then she had only been out of the hospital bay to go to meetings on her condition.

* * *

_The meeting room was stuffy. That's what Natasha realised first after being escorted in. The second thing she noticed was that everybody was already seated, her doctors, the scientists who worked on the chemical she had received, Coulson, Maria and Fury, plus all the Avengers. Minus Clint._

_"Agent Romanoff." Fury greeted sharply, and Tony flicked his head towards the empty seat next to him and she sat down next to him. She had been given her SHIELD issued suit to wear, but she decided it was best not to. It hurt putting it on over her wounds and bruises, not to mention it looked awful. Natasha wasn't vain, but it showed all the weight she had lost from the near month spent in hospital. It showed how weak she had become._

_Instead she wore a simple white vest top, her leather jacket and surprisingly loose jeans in comparison the her usual tight, well fitted, shapely ones. Even those had been a struggle to get on and she wanted to groan at the surges of pain from her bruises when she sat down._

_"Let's start with what we know, because I just wanna get this meeting over with. I have stuff to do." Fury sighed. "When Agent Romanoff first woke up, she couldn't remember anything past the Red Room. Now, after work with our scientists, she has regained large gaps of her memory. Of course, she has lost some elements too, such as pieces from after she woke up. Some, important pieces." _

_"You mean Barton." Tony stated and everyone turned to glare at him. "What. If we're gonna fix this, we have to be honest. Clint was her best friend, partner. He took her from the Red Room, he trained with her, and she associated him with SHIELD and whatever she classified as her home. Whatever gaps she's missing, I'm willing to bet it's because of her feelings towards him." Tony held up his hands. "I'm sorry Nat." _

_Steve folded his arms. "I hate to say it, but Tony's right." Tony faked awe._

_"I'm sorry, did you just agree with me?" He asked, mouth a gape. Natasha sniggered. _

_"Not now, Stark." Steve warned, shooting a look towards Tony, advising him to proceed with caution. "Now, I'm willing to bet if we can find a moment, we could maybe trigger something, and she'd remember something?" _

_"I'm not sure it would work like that, Steve." Bruce sighed, and took off his glasses. He polished them as we spoke. "After some research, I'm pretty sure I was right. To access your memory, we used that chemical. But it pushed back some of the ones you feel strongest about back, including ones with Agent Barton. It was sort of like a defense mechanism from your brain, shut them off so we couldn't access them. So a trigger may not be the easiest way to go about this." Bruce finally looked up._

_"What would you suggest?" Nick asked, and Natasha knew he was asking for the team. What would get the team to work again, how could he get his best duo back. _

_"Perhaps Natasha and Clint need to talk. If Steve is right, a trigger could work like that. But also, I'm pretty sure that they could build up a working bond again, over time." Bruce looked directly at Natasha. "I think the best thing that could happen is for you to move back into the Tower, after you've been released of course." _

_Natasha nodded. She didn't feel like talking. It made her angry, all of this. They all knew how strongly she felt about Clint, and she couldn't even remember the guy. They had more of an insight into their relationship than she did and it just didn't seem fair to her._

_"Right, settled. After Natasha is released, we'll organise another meeting to talk of progress. Maybe Barton might even attend this one." Nick muttered the last bit and Natasha thought she saw Coulson roll his eyes. _

_She left the meeting room with everyone else, with idle chatter and sympathetic glances. When she was escorted back to her room, she changed into her hospital gown, opened her windows to let the breeze in and crawled into her hospital bed. She drifted off into an uneasy sleep._

* * *

Now Natasha was still standing at the window. It was as wide as it would go, and the rain began coming down harder, hammering against the sill. Gently, she reached out her hand and the icy rain pattered down onto it. She still was ill, as well as her wounds she had managed to conjure a fever. And while she assured the doctors it was nothing, she realised how hot she was with the cool water on her skin.

She held out both of her arms and watched as they were pelted with the harsh rain. It felt amazing. The back fire of the rain sprayed her face lightly, like a mist. Soon enough, her damp hair plastered to the edge of her face, and she sat down on the edge of the window sill, tired from standing.

"You always did like the rain." A rugged voice commented from behind her. Natasha whipped her head round too fast and was rewarded with a stabbing feeling in her temple. She groaned and Clint stepped towards her. "You're not supposed to be up." He said simply.

"I know. How do you know that?" Natasha let him support her and help her back to her hospital bed. She lay down of it without the blanket and closed her eyes.

"I've been briefed." He stated. He seemed distant. Understandably, seeing as how hard this must be for him. Natasha really felt for him. "I brought you some of your clothes. They said you would be released by the end of this week, but I bet you miss them."

"Thank you." Natasha sat up slightly, the ache from her head passing. "I guess they filled you in on the meeting?" Clint raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, pulling up a chair and sitting on it so he straddled the back.

"Oh please," Natasha said. "We haven't spoken since when I first got my memory back, and then Fury decides we need to talk, and here you are. You're only here to follow orders."

"That's not true." Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I've been wanting to talk to you, but this isn't exactly easy. You were my best friend and now you don't even remember me. Being told to was just a push towards something I hadn't had the guts to do yet."

Natasha took a hair band off her wrist and began to pull her scarlet hair into a ponytail. "I know it's not easy for you, but it isn't for me either."

There was a lull in the conversation. Eyes flickered around the room, looking anywhere but at each others faces. Until Natasha's eyes did turn to Clint, to find him looking straight at her. Really looking.

"You're not looking too healthy, Nat." He said, concern in his voice. Natasha shut her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again, she smiled.

"I don't know what you mean." She joked. "Healthy as a horse." Clint smirked for a second, before his face turned serious again. "They say it's stress related, and my wounds aren't infected. So the fever and other effects probably just come from me freaking out. Or a possible side effect of the chemical. Either way it should pass soon enough." She assured him.

Clint sighed. "It better." There was another pause. "We all can't wait for you to move back in." He smiled, but only slightly. Seeing it sent a wave of comfort through Natasha.

"Really?" She asked, smirking. Clint nodded, and rested his chin on the back of the chair. Rain continued outside.

"Yeah. None of us know how to get Tony and Steve to stop fighting like you do." He joked, and Natasha managed to relax a bit. She settled her head down onto her pillow, and stared at the ceiling. "And besides you, only Bruce can cook. It's all organic and we all miss your Stroganoff."

Natasha didn't look at Clint, but smiled at the mention of her favourite food. It was weird how she didn't even know Clint anymore, but something about him just felt familiar. She took this as a good thing. At least it wouldn't be awkward and painful. But she thought that getting used to everything would hurt them both a lot.

"Tell me a memory of ours." Natasha asked, after a pause, disrupting Clint's trail of thought. "Not a big one, I'll hear them later. I just need a little one, but that meant something to you."

The archer paused. "The first night we moved into The Avengers Tower. Is that a little blurry to you?" He asked, and Natasha thought back. She could remember visiting her room and talking to some of the others, but it was all quite vague, like a lot of her memory. She nodded.

"That's probably because we spent the whole night together. It was still a little awkward with the rest of the team, and it was only about a month after New York. We went off to explore the tower, and found our way onto the roof. We stayed out there and watched the city for hours. It was our first night off SHIELD in a while, so it was our first time to relax for a bit."

Feelings surged through Natasha, like she could imagine the view for herself. Bliss and relief, but it hurt that she couldn't remember. It wasn't fair that memories that seemed as good as that were kept from her. Especially as she could count the amount of memories that sounded as good as what he described on her hand.

She turned over to face him, curled into the fetal position, but only loosely as not to hurt her wounds. "This is gonna take some work, isn't it?" She mumbled.

"Yeah." Clint agreed, running a hand through his hair. "So you find it as frustrating as I do?" He asked, smirking.

"Probably more so." Natasha smiled sadly. "I'm sorry." She said after a while. Clint stared at her bewildered.

"Why are you apologising?" He asked, shaking his head.

"I can only imagine how you're feeling. It's bad enough for me. I feel like ... I feel like I miss you, and I don't even know you. And you still have to remember everything. You must feel like, I don't know. Like you've lost something." Natasha turned to face the ceiling again.

"You're safe. That's all that matters really. I'd put up with anything to know that you're okay." Clint looked towards the window, out into the city beyond the rain.

"Oh." Natasha suddenly felt very exposed, it felt weird to hear him say something like that. Nobody cared that much, and it had always worked that way for Natasha. She looked out for herself. And although she couldn't help but feel Clint had just been far too open, she wondered if she had felt the same way about him when she had her memory.

The lapse in the conversation was filled by the sound of a doctor coming into the room, giving her some medication, and telling Clint it was time for Natasha to rest.

"I do feel kinda tired." She murmured. Clint stood up and moved the chair back to it's original position.

"Then sleep, Nat." He spoke softer now, and Natasha nodded.

"Wait," Clint turned back around from leaving the room. "Come back tomorrow?" Natasha asked.

"'Course, Nat." He smiled, and left the room. Suddenly, Nat didn't feel like smiling. She'd lost a lot and wasn't anywhere near to getting it back. She didn't want to focus on her personal life anymore. If she was well, a mission would be perfect for her right now. Instead, she would just have to focus on getting better. Sleep came easily to her that night.

* * *

When Clint got back to the tower, he didn't exactly know what he was feeling. Fed up, yet slightly hopeful seemed like the best way to describe it. He walked to the elevator and pressed the level of the communal room in search of company.

It was weird having Natasha back. Being able to hold a civil conversation with her was nice, and yet, she didn't look at him the same way. That did suck. He knew things wouldn't go back to normal straight away. Hell, they might not ever be the way the used to be. But she had asked to see him tomorrow, and that was good enough for him.

Reflecting on it, it had been an extremely long month. Not as hard as Natasha's had been, although possibly worse considering she had been asleep for half of it. It had consisted of many sleepless nights, team arguments and Clint being miserable. He hoped things we looking up.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid apart to reveal the lush sofas and arm chairs fitted in the room. Steve was seated, cross legged, sketch book in lap, Tony sat on the other side of the room with his arms folded across his chest, and Bruce was doing a crossword.

"Since when did I live with a bunch of old men? Well, minus you Steve." He smirked at the soldier and sat down on the couch next to him. "What's on the agenda for tonight?" Clint asked.

"Well, I wanted to watch Kick-Ass, but killjoys here said we had to wait for you, so thanks for being on time." Tony uncrossed his arm and kicked back in his chair.

"Sorry, I was with Nat." One by one each pair of eyes flickered towards Clint.

"How is she?" Steve asked, but Clint could tell what he really meant was, how are you? Wary eyes lingered over Clint and he shrugged.

"She's pretty good actually. Doctors are worried about her fever symptoms, but she says us it's nothing to worry about. I brought her some of her clothes and we spoke for a little while." Although they didn't say anything, Clint thought he could physically feel the relief that their conversation had gone okay.

Tony leaned forwards slightly, and Bruce once again started polishing his glasses. Clint had accepted that as just a nervous tick for the guy. "What did you guys talk about?" Tony asked.

"Nothing that serious. We agreed that it would take some work. I told her she didn't look too healthy. I told her we can't wait for her to move back in, because we miss her food." He winked at Bruce who just smiled slightly. "She apologised, funnily enough. Said she felt bad for what she was putting me through and I told her it didn't matter."

Clint left out the memory. For him, that was a private moment. Just as private as the memory he had shared with Natasha. And he didn't see a point in telling them, being honest. It hadn't worked; Natasha didn't remember it.

Steve reached over to clap Clint lightly on the back. "This is good, Clint. We can work with this." He grinned, and the smile spread through out the room. Soon enough Tony was smirking, and Bruce smiled slightly wider than he had before. Suddenly, Clint felt like smiling too. So he let himself.

"So, how about that film then?" Tony stood up and stretched his arms out.

"Sounds good to me." Clint replied, putting his arms behind his head, and leaned back into the couch, finally letting himself relax, since God knows when.

* * *

Natasha opened her eyes to the dark hospital room. The only noise was a beeping of a heart monitor that she had no use for. She highly doubted that she would be dying anytime soon. The only light came through the open window, where city lights flooded brightly through it.

Gently, Natasha turned over, sending a light pain through her stomach. Could be worse, she thought to herself. Her fever was getting worse, but she knew it wasn't anything serious. Just the worse time on Earth to be ill, that's all.

Unable to sleep again straight away, she thought back to her interaction with Clint. It felt odd because, honestly, she didn't have any idea who this guy was yet. She knew facts, and the way he made her feel, but she didn't know anything about the real Clint Barton.

And then Natasha found herself wishing she did. She wondered about his favourite things. What was his favourite song? Favourtie meal? How did he train? What was his most memorable mission?

Natasha began wondering, if she knew these things, would they begin falling back into place? Like pieces in a puzzle. Instead of having one memory to jog her own, what if she needed multiple? Then she might actually remember something.

It was worth a shot, she thought. Natasha made a mental note of her questions and decided she would ask Clint of them tomorrow. The thought of seeing him made her a lot calmer, which in turn stressed her out again. She wasn't used to one person having an effect on her like that. It was quite alarming that for all these years where no one else had mattered, and now the mere thought of seeing a certain someone could relax her.

She pushed those thoughts out of her head, and let the peacefulness of the night wash over her. Eventually, she fell into another sleep, deeper this time.

* * *

**Well, what did you think? The next chapter won't take as long as this, I promise. Also, if you guys wanted to read all my writing, even ones I don't post on here, follow my tumblr. **

**There, I write mostly Clintasha and Stony, but I'm also starting to look at writing some stuff for Rise Of The Brave Tangled Dragons. It would really help me out if you could maybe give that a follow because I also post updates on my long running fics. **

**Thanks guys!**


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